Serenity of the Broken Angel
by CrowsGurl
Summary: It's an endless cycle of broken hearts and frustration to which neither can find an end. M/D Oneshot. Phase 2. Rated T for violence, slash and language.


Gritting his teeth, Murdoc fisted his hands in his hair and stompped a Cuban-Heeled boot hard on the carpark concrete. He was sitting on the Winnie steps, his anger so obsenely strong that he'd lost any hope of sleep, gone through three packs of cigarettes and a twelve pack- and _still_ he was unable to calm himself.

He wasn't quite sure what had started it, just that his inner-rage had boiled over two days before and he'd been hair-pullingly frustrated since. His deathly gaze shot up as the distant sounds of zombie movies echoed disorientlingly up the stairs from a certain singer's room. Releasing his fistful of hair, the bassist growled and stood up.

Murdoc's reasoning was far from hurting the lad, riding more along the lines of.. spectating. Something about 2D's positively _angelic_ features always calmed the storms raging inside of him, though most of the time he was still too blinded by alcohol to stop from taking the last of his stress out in a very violent way.

The Cuban Heels cracked dangerously down the cement stairs, Stu well aware of his mate's approach before he was even half way down. The singer was cuddled up in his bed, the room dark with the artificial light from the television casting a pale glow against him- contrasting with the black shadows and giving him an even more beautiful illumination.

Having to purse his lips as he finally stomped off the last step, Murdoc's shameless eyes followed 2D's willowy frame from the tips of his toes to his curious and rather frightened onyx eyes. Murdoc didn't look happy.

"'ey Tusspot," he growled as he walked in uninvited. 2D gave him a blank stare, drawing back a bit.

"Er, 'ey, Muds..?"

At first Murdoc seemed to find peace in the dark room, his gaze locking with 2D's, yet the fear in his eyes seemed to click something in the bassist that forced an evil smirk onto his face. He loved seeing that fear. "C'mere, 'D."

The singer's eyes widened at the quiet demand, making him pull back further into his blankets and quickly shake his head. "N-no fanks.." He whimpered. Murdoc's kinder demeanor vanished at the boy's resistance, the bassist storming over to the bed with a flooding of all the previous anger.

"Wot tha bloody 'ell d'yew mean 'no fanks'?" He barked, jerking 2D up by the collar of his pajama shirt. It was far too large on his skinny frame, still leaving him room to pull away.

"A-ah mean, u-uhm, well y-yew know-" he studdered helplessly, a few small diamonds gathering along the bottom of his eyes.

Murdoc, taking no pity, slammed him back against the wall beside his bed with a snarl. 2D let out a yelp, his head knocking hard against the cement wall and reverberating throughout his tiny frame. He was close to limp in Murdoc's grasp, afraid out of his wits. As far as he knew, he hadn't done a thing to anger Murdoc- though his violent rages often went unprevoked.

Shoving him roughly into the wall again, the bassist let out a deathly growl. "Dat wroight?" He barked right in Stu's face, leaving his ears ringing and his tears growing.

"P-please, ah didn' d-do nufing!" 2D begged, large hands pressing on Murdoc's chest. Taking it as a challange, the olive-skinned man jammed his larger body against the boney one and crushed the air right out of him. Coughing mingled with stifled sobs as the singer fought for breath.

At first Murdoc seemed pleased with the younger lad's sobbing submission, fearful trembling and overall misery, but his previous mission replaced his sickening delight and he froze. 2D's head was hanging, tears falling quickly down his flushed cheeks and body vibrating in a mixture of fear and anxiety.

He'd come down here to bask in the serene beauty that was his singer...

And he'd shattered it in stead.

Murdoc always held a certain sort of guilt for hurting the blue-headed angel, yet the spur-of-the-moment beatings seemed to flow so naturally that he didn't have the head about him to stop. Feeling his hesitation to beat the living daylights out of him, -again- 2D looked up to his best mate in frightened curiousity.

"... s'op cwryin'." Murdoc muttered, his voice hardly audible to the lad- yet it surprised him no less to hear it.

2D bit his lip, trying to force down his tears lest he enrage the bassist further. Of course the effort put forth only doubled the choking sobs and falling pearls, which made him fear for his life.

"Ah said s'op cwrying, faceache." Murdoc reiterated, his words forced to stay at a minimal level of irratation. They may have even gone so far as to border on pleading.

"S-sowwy," 2D peeped, pressing himself harder against the wall to relieve the pressure Murdoc's larger body was causing against his chest. Both were, unadmittedly, rather displeased with the lost contact, but there were far heavier matters to attend to.

Once Stu had caught his breath and Murdoc had assured himself of this, he again pressed closer, an unmeaningful glare set deep into 2D's eyes. "S'op yewr fockin' cwryin'." He muttered, his words brushing past 2D's lips in such a way that the singer's pale face to explode into a dazzling red display of flustered blushing.

Though 2D's lips were moving, as was alerted to Murdoc as they ghosted past his own, he couldn't seem to find the will to speak. His mind had gone from working a mile a minute to embarrassingly blank, leaving him with nothing but the sight of his best mate so close their breath mingled.

Frustration became obvious on Murdoc's tired features as the tears continued to fall, the guilt settling thickly inside his stomach and weighing down on his black heart. This often happened, though it was always from afar, never so close- especially considering they'd never been this close. Ever.

Murdoc growled, expressing his irratation verbally, though it didn't seem as intimidating as was oft the case. Shakily, 2D managed to whisper, "a-a'e yew ok-kay?"

Eyes closing and lips tugging into a thread-bare frown, Murdoc gave the wall a sharp shove and stepped back from the near-hyperventalating lad, giving him nearly a yard. "Shaddap," he huffed, watching with the slightest conveyed concern as the boy slid down the wall into a tight ball.

"S-sowwy, Muds.. ah w-wrilly am.." He sobbed against his boney knees, holding them tightly to his chest. Murdoc's stomach churned, knowing _full well_ he should be the apologetic one in this situation.

"Ah said shaddap!" Murdoc barked, though the anger was lost in his voice as he felt himself choking up. He wouldn't cry, he never did, but it was as close as he'd ever come. Turning on his Cuban heel, he stormed back up the steps and left Stuart in a crying heap on the floor.

When he'd gone down the boy had looked so sweet, the perfect little angel, and now.. he was, yet again, abandoned and broken by the one person he considered near and dear to him.

Murdoc threw himself down on the Winnie steps, his self-hatred and rage boiling deep within him. He jerked at his hair, grit his teeth, lit up a fag and ripped the top from a beer.

It was going to be another long, sleepless night for him.


End file.
